


Wish Fulfillment

by Syntaxeme



Series: Adventures in Divine Parenting [1]
Category: Book of Life (2014)
Genre: Adoption, Babies, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-25 01:17:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2603240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syntaxeme/pseuds/Syntaxeme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being so close in her work with the humans, La Muerte has always had some assumptions about how marriage is supposed to work. She also has a lot of pent-up maternal instinct and no one on which to spend it. When she uses the word "lacking" in a conversation with Xibalba, he makes it his mission to give her the family she wants. The problem is, the two of them can't have children on their own. So it's up to him to find...another solution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wish Fulfillment

            “Even if I told you, I don’t think you’d understand.” That, and she knew it was a silly thing for an immortal to be concerned with.

            “Try me.” Xibalba was following casually behind her as she walked along the perimeter of the palace to survey the constant celebration that was her realm. _Their_ realm, that is, since they had worked out a system of ruling in tandem once again. Although that had made them both much happier, lately, he had noticed La Muerte spending more and more time among the humans, and even when they were together, he’d caught her more than once gazing wistfully down at the particularly large family groups.

            “It’s nothing, my love. It doesn’t matter.” After all, if there were nothing to do about it, why bother him with her unrealistic desires? She had gone without for more than a thousand years; it couldn’t be that important. He tried to push the matter further, but she turned abruptly to face him, and her sudden nearness threw off his train of thought. She reached up to let her hands rest against his cheeks, even placing a brief kiss on his jawline, and he struggled to recall exactly what they’d been talking about.

            “Ahem. Right. If you’re sure.” He leaned in to kiss her, but she disappeared from his grasp, golden petals and candlelight zipping down to ground level to land among their “subjects.” Not a moment later, her husband’s shadow met her there, ready to reprimand her for being a tease—but she wasn’t looking at him.

            She stepped toward the street, where a large group of children were, after a fashion, playing fútbol. Her brilliant eyes stayed fixed on the game as she leaned forward against a streetlamp, wrapping her arms around it, clearly distracted. Xibalba frowned and stepped forward as well. He followed her line of sight but didn’t understand what was so interesting. She must have seen this a million times; why was it so fascinating now?

            He opened his mouth to ask but paused as the children’s ball rolled out of the street to stop at La Muerte’s feet. She knelt to pick it up, and one of the players hurried over to retrieve it. As she handed it back, she said, “You’ll have to keep a closer eye on this if you’re playing portera, Niñita.”

            “I will!” As she scampered back to their game, the little one called, “Gracias, La Muerte!” The Queen waved at them happily, but after a moment, her smile began to fade. Watching this interaction, seeing the longing in La Muerte’s eyes, Xibalba began to put two and two together.

            Oh.

            Oh, no. Surely he was mistaken. Surely she wasn’t thinking what he thought she was. The very notion was frightening, even for him.

            “Mi amor, are you…?” he began, afraid to even finish the question.

            “…don’t laugh at me,” she said, realizing she’d been caught. “I know it’s a silly thing to think about. But I can’t help myself.”

            “You’re saying…ahem, you mean children, don’t you?” She nodded as she got to her feet. Oh. Suddenly, he felt like he needed to sit down. “That’s why you’ve been spending so much time in the humans’ realm.”

            “They’re the closest I can get,” she said. “Whenever I’m around, I can look after them and see them grow up.” Even saying it aloud made her feel ridiculous. “I know it doesn’t make sense. It’s just…somehow, I started thinking that marriage was supposed to be followed by children—starting a family—like mortals do. And when I see them together, they always look so happy. It…makes me a little jealous. Now that you’re back, I’ve been thinking of it more.” She hesitated, unsure of whether to continue.

            “What?” he asked; he’d always been able to tell when she was keeping something from him.

            “I just…I wanted to have that with you. It almost feels like we’re missing out on something. Like something is. Lacking.” Could she possibly have worded it more painfully?

            “So.” He was doing an admirable job of disguising his anxiety as they started to walk along the edge of the street. “You want…us to…?”

            “Even if I do, we can’t. We’re spirits of Death, my love. We can’t create life.” This should have been a huge relief; Xibalba had _never_ considered himself “paternal” by any means. Yet now that he’d heard her talk about it and seen just how much it clearly meant to her, he couldn’t justify being glad for it.

            “Is there nothing to do that would satisfy you?” If there were, he would gladly make it happen. She smiled slightly and reached for his hand to hold it as they walked.

            “Don’t worry, mi vida. As long as you’re here, I’m happy. I’ll be all right.” Still, this didn’t seem to comfort him; nothing upset him more than to know that his love was in pain. He couldn’t stand for it. And what sort of husband was he if he couldn’t perform the impossible for her now and again?

**…**

            Well aware that it was bothering him, La Muerte made a conscious effort from then on to not dwell on what she lacked. Instead, she focused on her duties even more fervently, which meant spending even more time on Earth. However, this gave Xibalba quite a lot of time to think about the problem and to search for a solution. She was right, of course; even with all his power over life—to alter or extend or end it—creation was beyond his grasp. For a very brief period, he considered simply abducting a human child—but that notion was quickly dismissed; not only was he thoroughly uncomfortable with the idea of having such an intimate relationship with a human, but it would have to live on Earth—or die—which simply wasn’t practical.

            So what to do? Being who he was, he would never be content to just “let it go” and know his wife was unfulfilled. Even when he finally came to a feasible solution, he was loath to go through with it. It had become apparent that he couldn’t do this alone, and he _hated_ to ask for help (and therefore be in someone else’s debt). But what other option did he have? For his love, he would swallow his pride, just this once.

            On a day when La Muerte had already gone out, he left as well and headed to the Cave of Souls. After he had spent so long in the dark of the Land of the Forgotten, the bright glow of billions of candles made him wince for a moment as he looked around for the Candlemaker. After a few minutes of searching with no luck, he began to wonder if the Maker was there at all or if

            “Don’t tell me—” Xibalba jerked, wings half-open in surprise, and he turned to find the Candlemaker there with the Book, watching him skeptically. “You’re looking for La Muerte?”

            “Actually, I—wait, why would I look for her here?” Realizing he might have outed a secret, the Maker shrugged and quickly busied himself with his candles. “Has she…been here?”

            “Well, you know, once in a while,” he mumbled, trying to avoid getting in the middle of a marital dispute, _especially_ between these two.

            “Why?” Silence for a moment, other than the Book’s pages flipping. She’d always told him that she was going up to visit the mortals; why would she come there first? “…please.” The Candlemaker sighed heavily.

            “She just likes to know when there are new lives coming into the world. Y’know, she likes to keep tabs on everyone.” Xibalba knew exactly why she wanted to know, and it made his stomach burn with frustration for not having solved this for her already.

            “…I came to ask you for a favor,” he said at length, trying to change the subject and hide his feelings on the matter.

            “Ha! That so?”

            “Yes. It’s for her,” he went on. “Call it a gift. She wants a child. Obviously, that’s not exactly my area of expertise, so…I need your help.” The words tasted bitter in his mouth. Meanwhile, the Candlemaker’s smile had disappeared as he’d listened. This was certainly not what he’d expected.

            “Are you sure about this? I never had you figured as a parental type.”

            “I’m not,” Xibalba agreed. “But it isn’t about me. She’s unhappy; if there’s anything I can do to fix that, I’ll do it. You and I have had our differences. That is, I know I can be…difficult at times.” The Maker snorted at that.

            “That’s one way to say it.” Trying his best to stay agreeable, Xibalba went on,

            “But I’m not asking for myself. It’s purely for her sake,” he said. The Candlemaker watched him dubiously.

            “It’s a pretty huge responsibility, Xibalba. It’ll take _a lot_ of work from you, too. You’d do that just to make La Muerte happy?”

            “Yes,” he answered without a moment’s hesitation. “Will you help me?” The Candlemaker shook his head, but he was laughing.

            “You might be a selfish, sketchy ball of tar, but you’re a good husband. All right! Let’s see what I can do for you.”

**…**

            Since they’d gotten back together, it was rare for Xibalba to go out by himself. (Partially because La Muerte often tagged along when he left to keep an eye on him.) When she came home to find the palace empty, she was confused. Why would he have left on his own, rather than just going with her? Maybe he was still upset that she’d said their marriage was “lacking.” He _had_ been particularly standoffish for the past several weeks. She decided she needed to find him, to put his mind at ease—even if hers was not.

            She searched throughout the Land of the Remembered and even rushed through the Land of the Forgotten for as long as she could stand it. He was nowhere to be found. By the time she came home, his absence was beginning to really concern her; after they’d been apart for a thousand years, the thought of being separated for more than a day made her unexpectedly antsy.

            Just as she was readying to leave again, she found Xibalba coming carefully up the stairs to their home, holding a covered wicker basket in both hands. She immediately swooped down to meet him but paused before she could tackle him with a kiss; he looked shaken, anxious, and he held the basket as if it were filled with glass figures that might shatter at any rough motion.

            “My love, where have you been? I was beginning to worry,” she said, debating on whether to chastise him or smother him with kisses. “…what’s the matter?”

            “Hm? Nothing! I’m sorry, mi amor; I didn’t mean to worry you.” He was too distressed to look at her, keeping his eyes firmly on the parcel in his arms as he continued up the stairs with La Muerte on his heels.

            “Mi vida.” She stopped him once they stepped inside, leading him to look at her.

            “Hmm?” he answered, leaning easily into her touch and relaxing a bit—though he didn’t loosen his grip on the basket he’d brought.

            “Tell me what’s going on. Where were you?” He took a deep breath and let it out as a sigh.

            “Come with me; I’ll show you.” He led her to their bedroom and sat on the bed, wracking his brain for the right words to say. After she had set her sombrero aside, he took both of her hands in his and pulled her close. “I brought you a present.” Her eyes lit up with excitement, but she waited to hear his explanation. It was unusual to see him so nervous; she hadn’t seen him that way since the night he’d proposed so long ago. “Nothing means more to me than your happiness, my dear. Now that I’m here with you again, if you ever feel like something is missing, tell me, and I’ll do everything in my power to provide it. I love you.” As he released her hands, her smile had faded to confusion.

            “I love you, too. What did you…?” He just nodded toward the basket next to him on the bed. With one last questioning look at him, she carefully lifted the lid from the basket—and her breath fled in shock, leaving her frozen, staring. “I…h-how did you…?”

            Lying in the basket, surrounded by a blanket, was a child, just an infant, with pale gray skin and thick, black hair. She was sleeping soundly, completely unaware of the stir she was causing just by being there. La Muerte started to pick her up but hesitated and looked up to Xibalba. “How did you do this?”

            “I had help,” he said simply. “Is…it all right? Do you like it?” Very slowly, she lifted the little one out of the basket and held her close. From that vantage, they could also see very small, downy, red wings folded against the child’s back. The baby stirred and began to fuss from being disturbed, but La Muerte shh’d her and bounced her gently until she relaxed and fell right back to sleep. Xibalba had to admit, as apprehensive as he was about all this, there was something charming about seeing his love that way. When the Queen looked back at her husband, there were tears in her eyes; she had already fallen in love.

            “Tha—” She had to pause as her voice broke. “Ahem. Thank you, mi vida. She’s so beautiful. I…I can’t believe you did this for me. I never thought…thank you.” She crawled up to sit in his lap, pleased beyond words that they were _finally_ able to start a family together. It felt long overdue, but when she had convinced herself that it wasn’t possible, late felt _so_ much better than never.

            “You’re happy, then? You don’t feel—”

            “No, my love,” she assured him, resting against his chest and tilting her head back to look up at him. “This is…perfect. But what about you? You seemed…nervous about the subject before.” Ah, so she _did_ expect him to play some sort of role in the child’s upbringing. Damn.

            “Well, it’s…not as bad as it could be, I suppose,” he said vaguely. “I wonder if you might just let me…observe until it starts to talk. Until then, I probably won’t be much help.”

            “Oh, very funny,” she laughed, nudging him playfully. He wanted to tell her it wasn’t a joke, but he smiled along with her instead; seeing her so happy was worth whatever horrors might come with parenthood. “She needs a name.”

            “Catrina,” he said. “Jr.” La Muerte couldn’t help herself and laughed out loud.

            “You are no help at all! Your papi is just full of jokes, muñequita,” she told the child, stroking a fingertip down her nose. Xibalba, meanwhile, was distracted by that new _title_ she had just given him. As he was trying to decide how to respond, La Muerte reached for his hand, pulling his arm around her waist to help her hold their child. He tensed and held both girls closer, his heart hammering with fear that he might break the precious gift he had just given his wife. “Relax. She’s fine. It’s sweet you’re already so worried for her, though.”

            “Hmph. I wasn’t _worried_ ,” he argued, burying his face into her hair. “It was a reflex.”

            “Mm-hm.” La Muerte rolled her eyes, still smiling in contentment; he would come around eventually. A few moments passed in comfortable silence, and she spoke again. “I like Amaris.”

            “Any particular reason?”

            “There’s a lot of love tied up in the meaning of the name,” she explained. “Love and…a wish fulfilled. That’s all I can think about right now. And I think it suits her.”

            “Amaris,” he repeated, peeking over her shoulder to have a look at the little one. Somehow, the sound and the sight fit together perfectly. “Hm. It’s fine.”

            “It’s better than that, tarfeathers,” she said, leaning her head back to stick her tongue out at him. “It’s exactly right…mi vida?”

            “Hmm?” She turned around in his lap, keeping the child—Amaris—safe in her arms, and kissed his lips slowly, deliberately.

            “Thank you. For understanding and for…making this as important to you as it is to me.” Still floating a bit from that kiss, he smiled blissfully and ran his fingers through her hair.

            “Whatever you need will always be my highest priority, mi amor. Besides….” He grinned wickedly and went on, “If you keep calling me ‘papi,’ I’m sure I’ll get used to it soon enough. You should practice~” La Muerte smirked and leaned in close to him to whisper softly,

            “You’re going to have to tone down that sort of talk around the baby.” Xibalba pouted from being denied, and she consoled him with a kiss on his cheek. She then moved to retrieve the baby’s blanket from the basket she’d arrived in. It was a soft falsa blanket woven with dimly-glowing images of candles, which gave La Muerte an idea as to where Xibalba’s “help” had come from; she would have to thank him somehow. She stood and started to lay the blanket out on their bed, surprised to find that her husband collapsed immediately once she was out of his grasp.

            “Xibalba?”

            “I’m fine,” he mumbled, waving a hand at her, though he seemed utterly exhausted. “It’s just been…a very eventful day.” His anxiety had finally caught up with him, and after being tense for so long, he desperately needed a few moments to gather his wits.

            “Aww. Papi needs a nap, too,” La Muerte laughed. She lay down next to him, letting Amaris sleep on the blanket between them. “I think you deserve at least that much.” Though he was hesitant to lie so close to the child, still convinced she would be easily-damaged, the three managed to settle in together, each fitting in with the other two. Xibalba fell asleep quickly enough, but La Muerte stayed awake, stroking their child’s tiny fingers and not bothering to hold back her tears. No matter what she was “lacking” before, her heart felt so full at that moment that nothing could possibly have made it better. For those few hours, she just wanted to silently enjoy this perfect little family that she could call her own, grateful beyond words for every part of it.


End file.
